


do you ever dream of me (if you ever dream at all)

by strange_index



Series: how to tell if the 'rock' in your life is a volcano (and how to deal with burns) [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ambiguous Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, He Got Better, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Post-Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, WoL hijacked POV halfway thru, but they're getting better at talking about their feelings, mention of past suicide, no beta we die like the ascian homeworld, no smut but we getting there, the WoL need therapy, they better cover this in Patch 5.4 or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27628226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strange_index/pseuds/strange_index
Summary: “You fucking ruined everything! You invaded a fucking country for shits and giggles and stomped out the living hell of all of those crazy freedom-fighting bastards that I started to care about! You punched Lyse in the fucking face—which she honestly took like a champ—but you fucking stabbed Y’shtola!"Another day, another spar. But the Warrior of Light has finally reached their breaking point, and Zenos is not one to bend before a storm...
Relationships: Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light
Series: how to tell if the 'rock' in your life is a volcano (and how to deal with burns) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946884
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	do you ever dream of me (if you ever dream at all)

**Author's Note:**

> Eyo sinners! \o/
> 
> So, i write about the WoL's perspective of Zenos' first "final" scene with us and how that affected them. They're getting better at talking about how they feel, but this is also a super weird situation for all parties so lemme know if i shoulda handled this with more grace than i gave it.

There was something all too exhilarating about sparring with someone that could kill you.

Hmm... perhaps it would be better to reframe that as “someone who should have killed you.”

_What heights of absurdity you take me to, my Friend._ Zenos found himself elated as he stabbed into the ground with The Swell and watched the Hero ( _my Hero my Prey my Passion_ ) be flung backward by the whirlwind it summoned.

Oh... or rather allow themselves to be flung. Clearly prepared, the Warrior of Light straightened in midair to land gracefully in a crouch and launch themselves forward yet again. They were wielding a shield this time, and used it to slam into him with unnatural force.

_How powerful you have become, my Friend... How you have tempered your fury and bloodlust into a blade to rival my own._

Easily, he bore the brunt of the tackle, barely moving thanks to his own enhanced strength so carefully and forcefully cultivated through years of training and his own willful experimentation. He drew on the Resonant to push back with Concentrativity when the Warrior went lax and disengaged. They took a few steps back and their weapon and shield disappeared, signaling the premature end of their bout.

Frowning, Zenos asked, “Have I bored you, my Friend? It is quite unlike you to leave a battle unfinished.”

The Warrior studied him, giving Zenos the distinct impression of being naught but another Eikon they were trying to decide was worth killing now or after they had determined his purpose. The Garlean stared back, patiently waiting, long used to the Hero’s long silences. Prior to his... return... the Warrior had often remained silent throughout their encounters. So much so, that Zenos had assumed them to be mute. 

_Ah, but that rings false, doesn’t it?_ He thought, remembering the one time before his unexpected reincarnation he heard their voice properly. In his last, fading moments, the hoarse shout of his name echoed through his dwindling consciousness.

“You’re doing it again,” come the biting words.

Zenos was pulled from his reverie and again stood in the present, across from a baffled Hero. They furrowed their brow at him and appeared caught between confusion and frustration.

“Come now, my friend,” Zenos sighed, amused at the Warrior’s expense. “You know full well I loathe dull conversation. Speak your mind clearly. We are equals, after all.”

They frowned even harder, to Zenos’ surprise. 

“You keep smiling at me,” the Hero finally managed to grit out from behind clenched teeth.

He noted their hands balled into tight fists at their sides and the dangerous, angry glint in their eyes. “And my smile enrages you so?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not the smiling I can’t stand: It’s you.”

“...Are you going to elaborate or—?”

“You seem to enjoy fighting me, at least with that little smile you get on your face when we tear at each other, or that big smile you make when I get inside your guard, or that creepy smile you make when you think I don’t notice you’re gonna use the Resonant, or—wait, this isn’t getting us anywhere, let me start again,” they mumble, their face alight with embarrassment and yet that angry little gleam burns even brighter.

The Warrior huffs a sigh and starts speaking slowly, as if reciting from memory. “I get angry when I see you smile at me because I remember that you were smiling when you basically _cut your own head off_.”

_Ah, so they have finally arrived at this particular crossroad. Very well then_ , he thought. 

“Of course I was smiling, my friend. It was glorious.” Zenos could feel himself smiling now, the bubbling torrent of emotions threatening to spill out of him like a crimson wave. “I, at what I thought was the very height of my power, laid low by you, the most vicious and hungry creature I had ever lain eyes on… Why continue on when I had finally experienced such transcendent joy for the very first time?” 

He could feel that joy now, buzzing through his bones and the core of his seeming-immortal being. If he were a man prone to theatrics (like his late great-Grandfather), he would fall to his knees and bask in this feeling, proclaiming his undying (and likely nonexistent) soul to this Hero for the honor of this experience.

“Oh, how I wish I could dream of it…” Zenos blinked slowly, pulling those feelings ( _that joy_ ) back inside of him. Ah, but his Hero must be of another mind, to be glaring so furiously at him now.

“But clearly this answer does not please you, so let loose the howling behind your eyes. What do you hate about me?” Always provoking, always pushing, always hungry to see them lose control...

And lose control they did. The Warrior launched themselves at Zenos with all the grace of an unmanned magitek walker, managing to knock him to the ground with an earth-shattering force the Garlean was wholly unprepared for.

They gripped his shoulders and shoved with all their weight to keep him pinned to the ground, though Zenos was certain he could easily toss them aside at the negligible expense of a dislocated arm. However… the ferocity in their face, the weight of this unspoken pain clawing its way into the light… “Speak. What do you hate about me, Warrior?”

Still, the Warrior of Light seemed unwilling—or perhaps unable—to spit out the words. Zenos returned their grip, holding tightly to the Hero’s waist with a force that would be bone-crushing to another but served as a grounding point of contact for the Savior of two Worlds.

“I will have no secrets between us.”

The Warrior blinked at the former-prince’s gruff command. Even pinned, the Garlean was frustratingly unflappable and demanding. Gritting their teeth, they ranted internally, _This absolute fucking stuck-up giant entitled—!,_ before the pressure behind their eyes finally broke. 

“ _I hate that you fucking left me!_ ”

Zenos blinked, now on the receiving end of surprise.

“ _You fucking ruined everything!_ You invaded a fucking country for shits and giggles— _yes_ , I know that you didn’t give two fucks about ruling anything, you _psychotic asshole_ —and stomped out the living hell of all of those crazy freedom-fighting bastards that I started to care about! You punched Lyse in the fucking face—which she honestly took like a champ—but you fucking _stabbed Y’shtola_!

“I had to free _two_ fucking countries thanks to you and your father! And then I had to fight people that you sent to fight me like some kinda _training exercise_ ! You shoved Krile in a _fucking tube_ —and I don’t even know her that well, but _what the fuck Zenos_ ! You threatened the fucking _twins_ , my fucking _tiny buns_ , my goddamn adopted siblings because I can’t _not_ be committed to those little bastards, _they’ll follow me through anything_!

“And then, after all that nonsense, after all that fucking foreplay, you have the _balls_ to absorb yourself into a _fucking primal_ just to get high enough to fight me! _What the shit, Zen!_ I was gonna fight you as many times as it took to get you to _see_ —to get you to stop hurting people just to _feel_ —but you didn’t even fucking wait!”

The angry, frustrated tears threatened to soak through Zenos’ collar as the Warrior sat curled over him, shouting until they were hoarse and quiet. They took a few deep heaving breaths, before letting out a pained laugh.

“When I… when my friends, the Scions, were called to the First, they fell into a death-like sleep,” they started to explain. “And they… when I finally got them back here, even though we had spent what felt like no time apart, I was still so fucking angry that they could just die like that. Right in the middle of a sentence, just drop dead, without me knowing. But I found out I wasn’t angry, Zenos.” 

They finally lifted their head and stared down at the prince, who had grown more still throughout their rant until he resembled a grim statue beneath them, every bit of him tense with uncertainty. 

“I didn’t hate them because I was angry, I hated that I was scared. I kept thinking about ‘What if they don’t wake up? What if they die here? What if they leave me again?’ And then I thought, ‘Wow, I’m so lucky I don’t have to worry about that with you, Zenos.’” 

The Warrior treated him to a dark smile. “I even told one of them: ‘Zenos came back to me all on his own.’” The smile dropped and a chill ran up the spine of the man pinned beneath them. “But why should I be grateful?

“Because when they were taken away from me by forces beyond their control, you left.” They growled, remembering that bright red blade against a pale neck, remembering a bright red girl faster than they and moving when _the Warrior_ should have, _when they should have been faster, should have been closer, should have stopped—_

They raised their hands from his shoulders and cupped his face in their palms, roughened thumbs stroking over bloodless cheeks and underneath heavy-lidded ice blue eyes.

“You chose to die, Zenos.” 

They stood, staring down at Zenos for a moment longer before shrugging, the careless movement sorely out of place in the heavy atmosphere created by their long-winded confession. “And every time you smile, I’m scared you’ll choose death again.”


End file.
